This story is in response to
A Complete Fabrication, An Advertisement, & A Dedication
A COMPLETE FABRICATION
He said he wanted to marry me. No, don't laugh, I swear, shut up, why are you laughing? Stop it. I'll throw my shrimp salad at you. He's allergic to shellfish, did you know that? When we were there, the last time, you know, when he had a ring and everything and he was between my legs and took it out of his pocket and he gave it to me? Remember I told you this? Judy, can you get off your phone for one damn second? And don't call me Mom, we're in public. We're like sisters, the waiter said, remember. And stop rolling your eyes and just listen. What was I saying? He's allergic. To shellfish. We ordered something, I don't remember what, and this was after I told him that I was never getting married again, mind you, because of your dear old deceased daddy and oh just stop that, you didn't even like him, remember what he did when you were twelve? Well, I thought you said you forgave me for ignoring it. If you don't forgive me you better spit it out. Now. No? Okay, well then just listen for a second. So we ordered something, maybe it was fried calamari, and he ate some and his face got all red and blotchy and I mean, he's okay looking, but not like that he isn't, and I had to take him to the emergency room and it was a whole thing, because everyone kept asking me if he was that Bill Buckner and I had to say yes, but I said I was just a friend. God, it was embarrassing.
Don't believe the prospectus we mailed you? Come check it out for yourselves! We have single and double rooms, regular STD check-ups in addition to your daily medications, and a fold out couch if you have children who want to stay with you! Not enough? We have Dr. Rouge coming in every Monday and Friday and for an extra fee he will keep you in good looks.
The Madonna Inning: Where 81 is the new 18.
& A DEDICATION
This suicide note is dedicated to Bill Buckner. May he ever live in moustachioed heaven after I'm gone and then he's gone, eventually. And Judy too. Sorry, Judy. I'm too young to go there. Anyway, I'm not really killing myself, I'm just going somewhere else. Maybe I'll visit your aunt Lillian. Your father's godawful sister. But I'm dead to the world, so farewell and see you on the other side.
For one night only, David Bowie, Joni Mitchell, and Bruce Springsteen on one stage, sponsored by Saran Wrap. Paul McCartney is coming too. Get ready. Bring your kids. They love these people more than you do by now. And they need more Saran Wrap. Don't forget that commercial with the dad and the baby. It worked really well. Your kids are having kids, they need to learn this shit.
Friday, noon, at an unspecified location in Las Vegas. All ticket purchases are final. This company does not take responsibility for impersonators.
& A DEDICATION
"Are you going to this thing?" - Joni
"No. You?" - David
"Ha. What about you?" - Joni
"Yeah, guess I might do." - Paul
"You're better than that, lovey." - David
"None of us are." - Bruce
"We definitely are." - Joni
"Maybe. For now." - Bruce
"But not for long?" - David
"We'll see, I guess." - Joni
"So see you there?" - Paul
Ilana Masad is a queer Israeli-American fiction writer and book critic. Her work has appeared in The New Yorker, the New York Times, McSweeney's, Joyland, StoryQuarterly, the Washington Post, the Guardian, LA Times, and more. She is the founder and host of The Other Stories, a podcast featuring new, emerging, and established fiction writers.